Of Wine And Women
by Herringway
Summary: After the death of his Grandfather, Damion decides to take up a new job, and a new vice. Jack/?
1. Prologue: A Flicker of Lightening

**Harvest Moon: Of Wine and Women**

_Disclaimer: Harvest Moon 64 is property of Natsume and Nintendo. I own nothing._

_Author's Note: This is a romance story based off of the events in HM64, if you choose to marry Karen. Jack makes no appearance in this, instead, my character 'Damion Opeth' takes his place. This fanfiction piece is told from Damion's point of view, and it is mainly a romance story, with a bit of sex and language. Damion's attire is also changed from the traditional clothing seen in-game._

**Prologue: A Flicker of Lightning**

His death is still heavily debated. Some say he died of old age. Others say he died because the amount of work on that farm was too much for him, which again ties into old age. Whatever the reason, he was dead, and a funeral would be held in the village square of Flower Bud Village tomorrow. I still weep, knowing that of all the people who understood me, trusted me, would give his all to make me happy, my grandfather, was gone forever. I had known him since I was five years old, when I would spend every summer with him.

I am grown now, to a full-fledged nineteen years old. Fourteen long years have passed from when I would leave my home in the city and come here. Out of all the people whom his death affected, I think I was hurt the most. Tears streaming from the corners of my face, I set to pack my bag. As I did, I reflected on what my grandfather once asked me. I still remember that one conversation that led to this.

_"Granpa, why did you want to become a farmer?" I asked him, when I spent the summer there when I was seven._

_"Damion, I chose to become a farmer because this place has been in the family for generations. My pappy was a farmer, and so was his pappy before him..."_

_"And back and back and back..." I completed, having asked this question to my father once. "Why did Dad become what he is?"_

_"Your pappy chose to become a buisnessman because he thinks there is no money in a job like this." He said, then he eyed me with that wonderous look that any young child gets when he gets a new toy. "What about you, Damion? Do you think you know what you want to be when you grow up?"_

_At the time, I had no idea._

Now I do. The idea came to me as quick as that, like a flicker of lightning. I would ressurect that farm, keep the farm that Grandad, and the other members of the family from way back when from going under. A small smile formed on my lips, and there would be no changing my mind after.

"Grandad... I hope I do you proud..." I prayed softly after packing my bags and rucksack. Tomorrow, I break the news to my father. But for now, just snuggle under the blankets and dream of a better tomorrow.


	2. Chapter One: Ah, Memories

**Chapter One: Ah, Memories...**

_Author's Note: For the reference of you, the reader, you can distiguish flashbacks from the italisized font. The current-time parts of the story are, obviously, your standard font. _

_Font like this: Flashback  
_Font like this: Current time

_Now, on to the story!_

* * *

I scrambled into the Toyota 4-Runner, my bags in the vacant seat next to me. Dad kept a watchful eye on me from the rearview mirror... he didn't seem impressed, and the silence was more than I could bear. To keep me from going slightly insane in the backseat, I placed the buds of my iPod in my ear, letting the ever-inspiring band Incubus take me away to the deep reaches of space (One of my early childhood fantasies) with their song, "Stellar". That morning had left us both giving each other the silent treatment for a good while of the ride. 

_I had crawled out of bed groggily, dressing in my general attire: Black hoodie, Black T-shirt, blue 'leg-hugger' jeans and laced on a pair of Chuck Taylor All-Star Converse sneakers. Dragging my packs behind me, I slumped at the table and poured myself a bowl of Frosted Cheerios. As I poured the milk, I looked over at my dad, silently eating his poached eggs and bacon. "Dad..." I began, swallowing hard. "There's... something I want to tell you." Shit. I didn't want to begin that way. The next scentence was rushed together, and it was a wonder he could understand me. "I'mnotcominghomewhenweleave." I sighed of slight relief that I had gotten it out, and began hammering back spoonful after spoonful of cereal, barely tasting it._

_"Excuse me?" He asked, placing his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers together, resting his chin in his thumbs. He always used this tone when trying to strike a deal with a customer. "What are you going to do out there by yourself?" A smirk played on his lips. When I was younger and would tell him this, he would cut me off immediatley (Usually because I couldn't give an answer) and say, 'Absolutley nothing, that's what. Life isn't all fun and games; you won't be [insert age here forever, you know'. However, I had my answer for him today._

_"I'll work on the farm, like Grandpa would have." I replied in a matter-of-fact tone. Dad's smile slowly faded from the corners of his mouth. He never expected me to reply like that at all, and made a point of telling me so later on that morning. My eyes wandered around the room, before they landed in my half-eaten bowl of Cheerios. "The people there are very nice and supportive, and the work would be good excersice, and, despite what you may think, there is a bit of money in that kind of job. I'd also be growing some of the produce you'd buy here and elsewhere, so I'd be supporting not only myself, but thousands of people across the country." I paused, watching him absorb all of this. He looked thoughtful for a moment, as I spoke again. "Besides, the air's cleaner there, anyway."_

_"It's the same air you breathe here." He replied, losing all sign of amused thoughfulness. For the first time in a long time, I was at a loss for words; I felt like I had nothing to say to him. Then the next scentenced formed, and I think I was more surprised than he was when it left my mouth._

_"Yeah, if you don't mind getting all your minerals in one breath."_

After that, we had a battle of viewpoints, and it was getting nowhere. He glared at me, and told me to 'Shut up and eatmy god-damn cereal'. After washing the dishes, I had crawled into the back seat of the Toyota 4-Runner.

The ride seemed long and bland. Flower Bud Village was a good fifteen-hour drive, provided you were travelling at about eighty miles an hour. However, my dad likes to take the _scenic_ route, which, to me, means absoultey dick-all. So the bridge we're about to go by was build by your great uncle Murray. Whoop-de-fucking-shit, I don't care. Amazingly though, Dad didn't want to take the scenic route this time. We just cruised on past everything that Dad would spend a good hour or so talking about, and I would normally pass aside and go, 'Who the fuck cares' under my breath. We stopped only to fill up the fuel tank and our stomachs at this neat little truck stop just outside the next town over (which was a seven hour drive at sixty mph). I ordered what I usually ordered: French Onion Soup with garlic bread on the side.

When we were done and all was paid for, we were gone again. I was somewhat amazed that dad wanted to get there so quickly, and I thought I saw a single tear crawl down his cheek when 'Don't Blink' by Kenny Chesney came on. I wouldn't know until dad came a year or so later that when he heard this song, he was instantly reminded of when I was a young boy, and he had wondered where all the time had gone in order for me to be the 'hulking, surly young man that I had become', as he put it.

The vehicle stopped on the dirt driveway that once belonged to my Grandpa's farm. I remember when I first came here: I was probably four, maybe five years old at the time...

_I hopped out of the old pickup truck that we used to have... I don't remember what brand it was, but I remember that it was a small, red truck. My feet made contact with the rocky ground and I looked around, wide-eyed at the beautiful-looking farmland, pondering who it belonged to. Whoever owned this place must have been a kind person with a lot of patience and time. Then I met him._

_Dad introduced me to an older man, shorter that him. He wore a blue-and-orange ball cap, his grey hair curling out from underneath the headwear, with a pair of overalls and a plain, white T-Shirt underneath. I must admit when I first met him he scared me, as he was a total stranger to me (According to Dad I hid behind his legs, peeking out at the elderly man)._

_This man was my grandfather, and he would soon become one of my best friends._


	3. Chapter Two: Funeral for a Friend

_Author's Note : Oh holy shit, I kinda left his one sitting around collecting dust for... five years?! Aw snap. I'll have to do extra well on this to make up for the time. I'm so sorry to anyone still looking for updates on this (though I doubt anyone will be).  
_

_Characters are not mine, Damion is just Jack with a new name._

Chapter Two : Funeral for a Friend

Hands down, it was probably the single most solemn day of my life. There's not much you can say about how downright depressing a funeral is, much less a for a loved one.

So I went into the church for the first time in forever. To tell the truth I've never felt so goddamn awkward in my life; it was like stepping into your own house, and finding out that someone had swapped everything with an exact replica: everything looked and felt alright, but then, you just couldn't shake the feeling that something was very, very wrong. Truth be told, I guess I attributed my discomfort to the fact that I was never very religious. I didn't think much of a jaunty old Jehovah looking down above me, or of a Harvest Goddess showering blessing on my crops and family. If there is some deity up there, then, well... I try not to think too long and hard about it, otherwise I get all soul-searchy and weird.

The main service was typical of a funeral, everyone dressed in their best to see off Grandpa... I really don't want to go into detail about it. I spent more of my time in the bathroom, actually, my arms wrapped around my knees and my head hunched over. I wasn't ready to see that. I never would be, and I regret not being a big part of the funeral. I was, however, one of the pallbearers. In this way I was able to be close to Grandpa one last time.

He was buried in the cemetery in Flower Bud Village, with a large granite headstone. Finnegan Harvest lived for ninety-four years, and worked the farm for eighty-four of them. He was a loving father and grandfather, a hard worker, the kindest soul in Flower Bud Village, someone who would give you the clothes off his back if you had none.

That's what the locals told me, anyway. For what it's worth, I believe them.

We went to the Town Square for the wake following the burial. There were a few blankets set out and people were talking to one another, discussing everything under the sun about Grandpa's life. Some of it I knew, the rest of what I heard came as a complete surprise to me. I spent a lot of my time away from the others, observing them quietly.

"So, he's gone... it all happened so fast..." One of the carpenters was saying. Apparently, until he died, Grandpa looked fairly healthy. He didn't smoke, he enjoyed the occasional, social drink, he was always exercising, and he watched his diet, not eating anything he didn't grow on his own farm. It was mostly because of his healthy lifestyle that it was a shock that he just... died. They say it was age; how he just got too old to run the farm and it just caught up with him. "Eat right, exercise, and die anyway." That was how I looked at life a lot of times. No matter what you did, Death makes fools of us all, and it's inevitable. Fuck, I sounded like a whiny, hopeless little bastard back then. Maybe I still am. I don't know. I approached the crowd to keep from looking like a complete loner.

Besides, this was family, in a bizarre sort of way. These people knew my Grandpa in a way that I never could. I wasn't here enough for that, and I regret it now.

"Yea.. So his farm... no longer..."

I inhaled through my nose and swallowed a lump in my throat. The farm. What was going to happen to it? I knew that he hadn't left it to anyone in the family in his last will and testament, or to anyone for that matter. If no one were to claim in within the month, then it was going to be sold to some company in the city, probably to be used as a landfill or something.

I couldn't let that happen. My grandfather worked too damn hard and took great care of that farm for many, many years. His hard work couldn't just be bulldozed over. I couldn't let it happen. I wouldn't let it happen.

"Here, have another drink," I could hear an elderly woman say, her voice cheery, which struck me as odd, given the circumstances. However, a bottle of sake in her hand, pouring someone else a cup was justification, I guessed. "This should be a joyous sending off!" She laughed in a way that reminded me of springtime, of new life.

"That's right, it's no good to be depressed!" Came the voice of an elderly man, the bowl of a pipe pinched between his thumb and index finger. Her husband, maybe? I made my way past them and found myself meeting a gentleman in a red suit. He introduced himself as The Mayor when I arrived here the night before.

"You're his grandson, aren't you? A respectable man, he was." He wiped a tear from his eye. Grandpa must've been the community's pride and joy. "Would you like to say a few words? A eulogy for him?"

I thought about this for a moment. Should I accept? What would I say? _He was a good man, a kind, respectable man. He had a lot to say, but didn't say it in words. We'll miss him. I'll miss him. I wish him well._

"No sir. I just want to pay my respects and say a final goodbye to him." I don't know what possessed me to say that. Probably because I didn't want to sound like a phony in front of all these people who knew him better than I could have. He gave a nod in understanding and left me to my devices. As I was leaving to go to the coffin once more, I sighed, my heart filled with both grief and doubt. Could I restore the farm? Am I cut out for this?

Am I crazy?

I almost missed what another gentleman was saying as I passed.

"Springtime is beautiful... with the cherry blossoms..." He hummed contently, smoking a pipe along with the other man. All this talk and thoughts of springtime... of new life... Was this Grandpa trying to talk to me? I mulled my thoughts over quietly as I left the square, returning to Grandpa's farm. As soon as I got close to the edge of the field, my heart sank a little. This was where my Grandpa had lived all his days. A small, one-room house, with nobody but his dog. I looked out into the field: Tree stumps, large rocks, and grass had taken over the lush fields that I knew so well in my younger days; it was a ghastly mess.

My heart almost stopped at the sight, and I considered giving up on my initial dream then and there. How was I going to do all this by myself?

I looked at the house before me. It was a simple house: One story. One door. A couple windows. Fairly large on the inside. Here were the memories of a man who lived, breathed, and spoke all things nature; whose own nature was love, understanding, patience. A spiritual man whose strength came from the heart. Someone I would be lucky to be half the man he was. Dammit, that would have been a good eulogy.

"Sorry I'm late. Is everything already...?" My thoughts snap back to the present day. Dad, for some reason, couldn't attend the reception. Something about business back at home. Well, the place he called home. He spent a bit of time at an inn, making phone calls. I gave a nod and sighed, looking up at the trail of gray smoke making hazy patterns up the chimney and into the azure. "...Son?"

"Dad. I'm going to stay."

"Damion..." His voice is tired from making business deals for most of the day. He's using the tone of voice that used to send me on guilt trips, like I had stolen a cookie before dinner.

"I can't just... I can't leave. I think I know what I was meant to do all along, and that's resurrect Grandpa's farm. I could never forgive myself if i just let it go."

He looks thoughtful a moment. Either that, or he's too tired to argue. There's an awkward pause between us, before he says he'll go talk to the villagers. About what, exactly, I don't know. That could be anything from my decision to stay here, to just making small talk and shake hands, and bathing in attention with all the apologies and condolences for our loss. All the better for me. I need a moment to plan my course of action.

Such was the plan, anyway. Life has a funny way of distracting me, especially when it comes to animals. So when I could hear the sound of Grandpa's dog, my thought process immediately stopped and greeted the little guy who came rushing towards me. For some reason I can never be mad when Koji's around. "Hey, Koji! Who's a good boy, huh? Is it you? Is it you, hey?" If anyone were around at this point, I think there would have been a second funeral due to my dying of embarrassment. For the first time in a while, I smiled. "Hey boy. Do you think Grandpa would be okay if I stayed here and took care of you?" I got two barks and happy panting as a response. Good enough, I thought, continuing to play the day away with Koji.

"Damion?" Dad's voice snaps me out of it, and I leave the plot of land with Koji in tow. "You're absolutely certain you want to run the farm?" He asked, putting on the voice of seriousness that he uses for bargaining with clients. Today, however, I'd stand my ground.

"Yes. More than anything."

"It's going to be hard."

"I know that."

"There's no money in it."

"I'll manage."

"How?"

"Dad, please. Enough with the game of cat and mouse. I'm staying here, and I'm going to run the farm." My voice was firm, and I felt confident in my own abilities. Dad's expression eases up, and after an awkward pause, he sighs.

"...Okay. Do what you feel is right."

"I will." With that, I turned to go into my new home. But something kept me from going forward. Dad was still talking.

"...Do you know if Grandpa said anything at the end?"

It never occurred to me to ask that to anyone in the village. I feel my heart grow heavy and it feels like there's a lump in my throat. I looked to the sky as if Grandpa would look down at me, and give me an answer. But no such event occurred. I shrugged my shoulders and turned to face my dad. "Dad... I hope... I hope I make him proud. I hope I make you proud."

For the first time in a long time, I shared an embrace with my father. "Son... You've always made me proud."

He returned to the Inn, leaving me at the farm. And that was the last I heard from him.

Starting tomorrow, I would be a farmer. Time to get dirty.


End file.
